The Story Drawing Board
by BlackMoonWhiteSky
Summary: These are those stories I have that are still in the conceptual or REALLY early development stages. (Most of them still don't even have a first chapter yet.) I thought I'd throw them out there- so you guys could see what's in the works.
1. Walking Dead - Before and After

**Walking Dead**

**Daryl/OC**

**M (Probably- most likely due to language and gore/violence more than anything else.)**

**Romance/Horror (I think. I'm not fully decided here.)**

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><p><em>Natalia knew one thing- life was a series of 'before' and 'after'. She was used to the After's in her life being negative. After Daryl Dixon- now that was an after that she didn't mind one bit, even if he was socially awkward, and more than a little rough around the edges.<em>

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><p><strong>Before And After<strong>

**Prologue: The Before's and After's of Natalia Lear**

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><p>Talia's life was a series of before and after.<p>

Before she met her first love-

And after.

Before he decided that he'd outgrown her-

And after.

Before her daddy cheated-

And after.

Before her momma started dating again-

And after.

Before her father dropped off the face of the planet-

And after.

Before her mother married her step-dad-

And after.

Before he hit her for the first time-

And after.

Before she had to hide the marks-

And after.

Before she met Merle Dixon-

And after.

Before he found out about the marks-

And after.

Before he told her he couldn't be seen with a weakling-

And after.

Before she made him teach her how to fight-

And after.

Before she decided her step-dad had hit her for the last time-

And after.

Before she made that clear to _**him**_-

And after.

Before her mother kicked her out of the house-

And after.

Before she threatened to kill him if he ever hit her mother-

And after.

Before she moved away to college-

And after.

Before the sickness broke out-

And after.

Before the dead started walking-

And after.

Before she found herself locked in a gas station-

And after.

Before she was reunited with Merle-

And after.

Before Merle introduced his brother Daryl...

And after...

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><p><strong>Before And After<strong>

**Chapter 1: Redneck with a Motorbike**

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><p>Natalia stared at the bike in disbelief, "You're shitting me. You do know that they respond to noise, right? I mean, I always knew you were a few crayons short of a full box, but still- I didn't think you were <em><strong>that<strong>_ stupid."

"What did ya jus' say?" It was a growl from the older man.

"I said you're a fucking moron to even contemplate riding that damn bee in a can- I don't care if you _**are**_ good at killing them."

"Say tha' one more time- see wha' hap'ns."

Talia crossed her arms and took an aggressive stance. "I know what happens. You get pissy, threaten to smack me around a bit, and then I put you on your ass- simple as that."

"Oh, simple 's that, is it? Ya really sure ya wanna test tha' theory?"

"You bet your a-"

Daryl was silent as he observed the exchange between his brother and the young woman that he'd apparently met during his very brief stint in the military. It was a strange thing to watch- his brother getting on so well with… well, anyone really. He was amused and fascinated as he watched their interaction- Merle wasn't the sort to take shit from anyone, but here he was letting some _**girl**_ talk to him like this.

Deryl loved his brother- he did. But that didn't mean he wasn't aware of the fact that his brother was a sexist, racist, violent, drug-addled asshole. The fact that he was even remotely civil to this girl, despite what she was saying to him, was frankly mind-blowing. That the girl was attractive and clearly at least part Mexican made it truly unbelievable.

He was still kind of weirded out by the fact that she'd greeted Merle with a hug

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><p><strong>(And that's currently all I have written of this piece. Yay.)<strong>


	2. The Lost Boys - Boardwalk Pan

**The Lost Boys**

**I have not yet decided on the pairing.**

**Rating: T (Probably.)**

**Adventure/Horror (Maybe.)**

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><p><strong>First Summery:<strong>_ Pan: a container made of metal and used to cook; the Greek God; a young woman currently of great interest to the Lost Boys._

**Second Summery:**_ The boys have found someone they rather want to keep, Pan is kind and lovely- the definition of a good girl. But really, she's just never met the right boys- until now._

**Feel free to tell me which one you like better.**

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><p><strong>Boardwalk Pan<strong>

**Chapter 1: A Drink I Don't Need**

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><p>Pan Pipps loved the boardwalk, she loved it in the daytime and she loved it at night. It was beautiful. But the night was special- the darkness took her favorite thing and gave it magic.<p>

_Dark magic to fit the darkness._

It was a grim reminder: the wall of the lost. It made those wise enough to pay attention remember that while the darkness gave one a freedom to be true to their most core self- not all beings had a core self that was at all pleasant. Or safe.

That's what she thought anyways.

Her ass of a cousin would probably tell her that she was being weird again- not that she cared much about what her cousin thought. Or at least, not usually. Thoughts mean plans though- and right now Pan cared very much about his plans.

Pan dashed around another corner faster than her short stature suggested she was capable of. Her dark ponytail streamed behind her like a battle flag, her equally dark eyes wide with fear- she made no noise except the sound of her feet hitting the ground and the breath bursting from her lungs, but that was easily drowned out by the sounds of the boardwalk. She ran into what was probably the millionth person since she's began her great escape, only this time she was the only one who seemed affected- as she nearly fell back from the force. The only thing that stopped her were a pair of cold hands catching her by the elbows. She instantly began spewing apologies as she looked back over her shoulder, just catching sight of her purser's hair in the crowd.

The image made her frantic and she immediately pulled free of the grip on her arms, darting around the person she'd run into and hiding behind them, still without looking into their face. It was a guy she decided, despite the long hair, and he was not alone. Now safely behind him, she was faced with two jacket-clad backs, long blond hair (curly for one, wild but straight for the other), and slim but masculine figures. When said figures began to turn to face her, she yelped and clutched at their inside facing elbows, pulling them closer together- all the while rambling frantically. "Nononono. Shhh. Don't turn around. No. Stop that. I'm not here. Pretend I'm not here. No. Don't look at me. Shhh. Stop it. Wait. Just wait."

And then her cousin was gone and she was safe. A sigh of relief gushed passed her lips and Pan finally released her impromptu disguise, bending at the waist, hands braced on her knees as she caught her breath. "Thank goodness. I'm finally in the clear." Her attention shifted upwards for the first time, and she flashed a sheepish smile. "Sorry about that."

Pan blinked in surprise- the two guys that were now looking back at her with curiosity, and what she would almost call a dark amusement, were members of a group of motorcycle riding troublemakers known by locals as The Lost Boys. Everyone who lived in Santa Carla knew better than to get mixed up with them- people who did tended to have their faces added to the wall of missing. Most locals knew in their heart of hearts that those missing would never return- that's why Pan liked to think of it as the wall of the lost instead. For all the times she'd been to the boardwalk, she'd never once actually crossed paths with any of them, though she'd seen them from afar once or twice.

_Well, that's changed now, Idiot._

"Sorry." She repeated, this time more subdued, cautious. She did not behave fearfully though, she had already had enough of fear for the night.

"Who was that?" It was the shorter one that spoke, an amused somewhat mocking smile hidden behind a hand. "An ex-boyfriend?"

Pan's face twisted with revulsion and she actually shuddered at the thought. "God no. That prick was my cousin." She ignored the responding snickers with dignity and instead shook her head. "Thanks again for the save. I really-"

The curly haired one in the colorful jacket spoke again, interrupting her, the curiosity in his gaze growing. "Why were you running away from him?"

She shrugged. "He was going to throw me into the water. It wasn't a prospect that appealed to me overmuch."

"Don't want to get wet?" Teasing, mocking- the blondes shared a grin and another snicker at her expense.

A sharp head-shake and an ashamed blush was her response, she explained tentatively. "I can't swim."

Surprisingly, this did not induce more laughter- to the contrary, the blondes exchanged a borderline irritated glance before turning intense eyes on her. For the first time, the other blonde spoke up. "And he was going to throw you into the water anyways?" For some reason, the thought unnerved them both.

She glanced away, finger wrapping in the hair of her ponytail nervously. "He thinks I'm just being a pansy and that I'm ruining his _sparkling_ reputation as one of the best surfers around by being generally pathetic- guilt by association." Her face flashed irritation and she pushed her hair back over her shoulder, eyes turning back to them with a slightly cold look. "Like I said, he's a prick."

Something about the expressions on their faces gave her pause, and she was compelled to reassure them. "It's not like he would actually let me drown." _Not so long as he's sober anyways. _"The purpose is to frighten, not kill me."

They relaxed minutely at that and before she had time to wonder about their reactions or her own ability to read them, she caught sight of a clock over one blonde's shoulder and realized that she was late meeting her friend. "Crud. I gotta go. Thanks for the save. Sorry again for running into you." And she was running again, throwing a wave over her shoulder at them as she went.

Eyebrows raised, they shared a glance and decided to find David. He needed to know about their strange and extraordinarily strong reactions to some random girl. Belatedly, they realized that they didn't even know her name.

Damn.

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><p><strong>There's a section in here that I haven't written yet.<strong>

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><p>David didn't show it, but she had caught his attention immediately. Her scent was permeated by those of his brothers, though he could tell that she'd only touched Paul and Marco. And it was she who'd touched them- there was a very light coating across her front, like she'd been pushed, or ran, into them, but her hands were saturated in their scent. Dwayne's scent clung to her as well, but he could tell that they'd had no physical contact. It was little Laddie, though, who'd been able to touch her the longest; it even smelled like she'd held him for a while.<p>

Only Laddie's scent clung to her in a neutral way. Dwayne's, Marco's, and Paul's radiated with a possessive nature- marked her as belonging to the Lost Boys, and stated that anyone who ignored the warning would find themselves regretting it very much for however briefly they lived before suffering the Boys' vengeance.

She was standing protectively in front of a girl who was nearly a foot taller than her, and glaring at three Surf Nazis that were boxing the girls in against a car with malicious intent. "Bitch." The leader hissed at her, and judging by the way she stood a little taller- she recognized him. "You're the one that helped that little shit escape."

"Oh," Her voice was coolly disinterested in the situation, but David could hear the racing of her heart. "You're the jackass I kicked in the balls- you recovered much quicker than I expected you would. You must not have a whole lot there." Her eyes flicked very obviously down in the direction of her comment, and a sneer pulled her lips back slightly. Behind her, her friend paled significantly at her words and she gripped the back of her shirt in warning. The shorter girl ignored it. "Shame really, one would think that there would be _something_ about you that was redeemable. Your looks certainly aren't doing you any favors."

"Pan!" It was a hissed whisper, and David realized that it must have been the girl's name, or a nickname, at the very least. He couldn't help but be amused by the scene playing out before him- especially the way the leader's face reddened the longer Pan spoke. Her next statement made his amusement drop significantly, however, and when he caught a brief flicker of fear across her face at the responding step forward- he felt a growl rumble deep in his throat.

"You ought to be glad it was me that found you trying to start stuff with Laddie, and not one of his brothers. You'd have more than bruised Pride to worry about then. In fact, I suspect you'd be very lucky to be sent to the hospital, and not the morgue." There was a quiet whimper from the taller girl, but Pan refused to chance looking away from their antagonists.

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><p><strong>Annnd that's that. It's all I've got right now. Feel free, as always, to tell me what you think.<strong>

**...I know, I know, her name... I just couldn't resist giving the Lost Boys their Pan. What can I say? My brain is a strange place.**


	3. Star Trek - Beauty, Relative

_They were more connected than either one of them realized or wanted, but beauty is relative and they would come to understand that one could not be content without the other. Together, they might even manage to find happiness._

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><p><strong>Star Trek<strong>

**Khan/OC**

**T**

**Romance/Adventure**

* * *

><p>Beauty, Relative<p>

Chapter 1: I Haven't Got A Title Yet. (Or A Character Name, Now That I'm Thinking About It.)

* * *

><p><strong>Stuff will go here someday. Maybe.<strong>

* * *

><p>When she came storming in it was with a single-minded fury that called to his inner darkness. That rage- so pure in intent and intensity- was beautiful to him. It was something he could appreciate even on a human- even on a woman involved with this despicable organization calling itself Starfleet. It was almost Augment in its intensity- though of course, while Augments felt with burning insanity, they did not lose their clarity or awareness of what was going on around them.<p>

Not like humans did.

Not like this woman seemed to.

"Marcus! You better have a damn good reason for sending your goon squad to my office and having them manhandle me like some unruly prisoner!" Her voice was surprisingly balanced for someone who was screaming, although he got the sense that it was only with significant conscious effort on her part that this was so.

Marcus raised a amused eyebrow and though she was standing and he sitting, there was the distinct impression that he was looking down on her. "I've no doubt you behaved exactly like an unruly prisoner and I don't fee-"

She was quick to interrupt and Khan immediately realized that she was not in any way Starfleet, as there was no way they would allow such disrespectful insubordination. "If I did, it was only because they barged in with no warning and no explanation. And you are truly lucky that I was not involved in any volatile experiments at the time. There are some materials in my lab, however, that _are_ volatile- which is the only reason I didn't put one of them through the wall." This was clearly an exaggeration, as the woman was slight at best and didn't look like she could make one of Marcus' _goons_ hit the ground, let alone put one through a wall.

And yet Marcus went quiet. It was not fear, but a displeasure that seemed to slowly grow into rage which silenced him. "You would do well to remember that I can destroy you."

This should have silenced her, should have had her trembling with fear. Khan knew that Marcus was an intimidating man- not to him, of course. To him, Marcus was nothing but a squalling child, but to this tiny woman, angry or not, he should have been terrifying. Instead, she stood a little straighter, her eyes turned to burning ice and her voice was just as cold. "And I, you. Best you not forget it. You know I would never allow you to interfere with me without very quickly laying out a few plays. You cannot counter them all in time."


	4. Doctor Who - Starborn

_Vivi is not a conventional human. Slightly psychic- her best friend since childhood is a singing blue box. A blue box who, upon their meeting, tells her fantastic stories about a man, a Timelord, named the Doctor. The Doctor, however, is not the Timelord she finds herself meeting._

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><p><strong>Doctor Who<strong>

**The Master/OC**

**T**

**Romance/Adventure**

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><p><em>There are humans who are <em>just slightly _psychic- the Doctor has even met a couple. Viviana is one of the few, as a child she could hear a song. A sad, sweet, lonely, and powerful song- a song that seemed to mean forever._

_As she got older, the song got clearer- until the day she stumbled upon the blue box. The blue box... which spoke to her. Which called her Starborn, and soothed her loneliness like nothing else ever had before._

_The blue box, calling itself the TARDIS (and sometimes Sexy?) told Vivi stories about a thief known as the Doctor. Said he was always getting himself into trouble, saving lives and fighting monsters. A Timelord. Said she was always stuck waiting for him to come back to her._

_When she finally meets her first Timelord, however, it's not a man calling himself the Doctor. This man- he calls himself the Master, and there's something wrong in his head. She can feel it._

_A pounding. A beat. Sounding off like the drums of war._

_It hurts him._

_Vivi thinks about the stories from her TARDIS friend, the stories about the good man who hurts so badly, and she can't shake the need to help **this** man. To take the hurt away._

_He was dangerous once, maybe he's dangerous still, but he's trapped on Earth with nowhere to go. It isn't like anyone else will help him. He doesn't even have his laser screwdriver. (Not that she really knew what a laser screwdriver was.)_

_She wants to help him._

_As it turns out, she could do with a spot of help herself. For someone only _slightly _psychic, she's managed to catch all kinds of attention, and none of it good..._

_And then there's the matter of the Bad Wolf's touch..._

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><p><strong>Starborn<strong>

**Prologue: The Dream Song**

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><p>The song was timeless.<p>

Instant and infinite all at once.

Sad and beautiful.

Lonely.

It was the loneliest song she'd ever heard in her life.

She felt it all the way to the very depths of her soul.

She loved that song.

It gave her comfort.

Chased the nightmares away.

For all its loneliness, it was the only thing she'd ever encountered that took away her feeling of **being** alone.

As she got older, the song got louder.

Clearer.

She felt, almost, like she was finally getting nearer.

The fingers of her mind reaching.

**Reaching**.

Almost brushing the source.

And then she would wake up.

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><p><strong>Starborn<strong>

**Chapter 1: A Blue Box**

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><p>Viviana was pretty sure that cats were a hostile alien race, or maybe it was just her cat. Perhaps he was the forward scout for an invasion force.<p>

Or maybe she was just irritated because he'd decided to wake her up by clamping those little needle teeth of his to the very tip of her nose.

...No, it was definitely the alien thing.

Holding her tender nose, Vivi hissed at him, eyes watering slightly. "Just for that, you get to wait for breakfast until _after_ I take my shower." The cat, a black and white Tuxedo named Frankie, did not look particularly concerned, but then... he wouldn't. All he had to do was wait until she went into the bathroom before starting the combo-annoying-cute tactic. Just like every morning.

His human was so predictable.

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><p><strong>I decided to go ahead and post the prologue for this one. Mostly because I want it to eventually do a little bit of crossing over with my It's A Tesseract story.<strong>


End file.
